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all the crews to return, we made loblollies on the beach and watched the frogs which fearlessly sat next to us. Stan had succeeded in breaking down the sand bar on one side so that the jump across the little stream and the giant loblolly was a rather muddy ending to the canyon trip. We wetted down the places on the rafts where we wanted to sit; and, as we shoved off from the shore, we were filled with the joy that we had now contributed something to the Socotwa trips: Merly and Bob were so thrilled with the canyon (which we christened Shaw's Spring Canyon) that they announced it would become a regular stop on all future expeditions!
Before long we entered the huge sweeping curves which formed the great "S" for which Merly had modestly named the stretch. And still the sun beat down. To our left we could peer for a moment into the Rincon - one of the few canyons which opens onto the great plain to the south. Also, to our left, stood Castle Wall; and a little before, on the right, we had gazed at the Four Patriarchs who sat dignified and awesome on the brow of the gorge. The Escalante River greeted us as we emerged hours later from the last of the "S," and it signaled the proximity of Hole in the Rock, our destination for the day.
Somewhere within the Curve one more stop had been made. It was entirely unscheduled. With a crunch and a violent jolt the dozing sailors of the Cal Bears were brought quickly to their senses in time to see their captain, Steve, swept out of the raft which had dropped about three feet lower in the rear. While one of the crew struck out to reach Steve, the rest frantically worked to free the raft from the submerged rock on which it was caught. The raft was finally worked free, and the crew worked hard to reach the wall about 500 feet downstream where Steve had managed to crawl onto a rock. Soon all was well: Steve was safe, the raft was undamaged, and the experience could be laughed at; but a lesson was well learned. The young confidence we had became, in leaps and bounds, wisened experience.
It was still rather early in the day when we were signaled by the shouts and calls and the waving bandana that the landing was around the bend to the right. After tying up the rafts, the difficult task of unloading them presented itself. First of all, Nancy had to be fished out: her enthusiasm often pushed her headfirst into our activities. The problem of getting all the gear up the high embankment to the
2 Loblollies: (L. lobleo, to wiggle) 1. A thick gruel. 2. A strange, jelly-like layer of sand caused by vigorous slapping which brings water close, but not to the surface.

Socotwa is a trip log of participant activities and photographs from a river rafting voyage through the Glen Canyon area of the Colorado River from June 11-19, 1958.
The name, Socotwa, comes from the South Cottonwood Ward of the LDS Church, which first started the trips.

all the crews to return, we made loblollies on the beach and watched the frogs which fearlessly sat next to us. Stan had succeeded in breaking down the sand bar on one side so that the jump across the little stream and the giant loblolly was a rather muddy ending to the canyon trip. We wetted down the places on the rafts where we wanted to sit; and, as we shoved off from the shore, we were filled with the joy that we had now contributed something to the Socotwa trips: Merly and Bob were so thrilled with the canyon (which we christened Shaw's Spring Canyon) that they announced it would become a regular stop on all future expeditions!
Before long we entered the huge sweeping curves which formed the great "S" for which Merly had modestly named the stretch. And still the sun beat down. To our left we could peer for a moment into the Rincon - one of the few canyons which opens onto the great plain to the south. Also, to our left, stood Castle Wall; and a little before, on the right, we had gazed at the Four Patriarchs who sat dignified and awesome on the brow of the gorge. The Escalante River greeted us as we emerged hours later from the last of the "S," and it signaled the proximity of Hole in the Rock, our destination for the day.
Somewhere within the Curve one more stop had been made. It was entirely unscheduled. With a crunch and a violent jolt the dozing sailors of the Cal Bears were brought quickly to their senses in time to see their captain, Steve, swept out of the raft which had dropped about three feet lower in the rear. While one of the crew struck out to reach Steve, the rest frantically worked to free the raft from the submerged rock on which it was caught. The raft was finally worked free, and the crew worked hard to reach the wall about 500 feet downstream where Steve had managed to crawl onto a rock. Soon all was well: Steve was safe, the raft was undamaged, and the experience could be laughed at; but a lesson was well learned. The young confidence we had became, in leaps and bounds, wisened experience.
It was still rather early in the day when we were signaled by the shouts and calls and the waving bandana that the landing was around the bend to the right. After tying up the rafts, the difficult task of unloading them presented itself. First of all, Nancy had to be fished out: her enthusiasm often pushed her headfirst into our activities. The problem of getting all the gear up the high embankment to the
2 Loblollies: (L. lobleo, to wiggle) 1. A thick gruel. 2. A strange, jelly-like layer of sand caused by vigorous slapping which brings water close, but not to the surface.